Chapter 14: Meet the Neighbors Part 2, Lightning Boogaloo!
"So what you're saying is that we can teleport through the bonfires, moving from one to the other with just a thought?" Erik asked, trying to process this information. Shalquoir purred happily as Lucatiel pet her, which left the Emerald Herald to explain.
"Yes, but only to ones you've visited. You have to visualize the destination, and then the bonfire will move you, much in the same way as what happens when an Undead dies and they are warped back to one," Shanalotte said. She and Erik were sitting next to each other on some of the flat stones surrounding Majula's bonfire, and the Fire Keeper was glad she was not directly across from the young chef. She did not want to have a face full of naked chest and fine abs distracting her as she tried to explain very complicated mechanics in a very dumbed down way.
Not that she was attracted or anything! It had just been a long time a young, moderately handsome man had been half naked around her. Or nice. Shanalotte violently shook her head to clear away those treacherous thoughts.
Erik scratched the back of his neck, struggling to wrap his mind around the bonfire mechanics and blissfully unaware of what was going on in the Emerald Herald's mind.
"Sort of like a White Soapstone summoning?"
"In a way, but the Soapstones are a form of astral projection while the bonfire is a physical transfer of matter through the bending of space and manipulation of Dark Matter and pure Humanity," Shanalotte explained. "Furthermore, because one needs to have a cognizant mind and clear thoughts, a Hollow cannot use a bonfire to move around. Even if the bonfire didn't repel them for lacking Humanity. It's the reason they become safe havens even in fairly wild areas."
"Alright, I can sort of get that, in a sense. What can you tell me about this?" Erik asked, removing a two silk pouches full of tiny vials. Shanalotte gasped, and even Shalquoir took an interest in them.
"That… that is an extremely rare item; Sublime Bone Dust! Long ago, a man tried to understand the soul in a variety of ways. In the end, he felt the only way was to cast himself into the First Flame and return to the source of all life. He was reduced to ash and soot and dust." Reverently, the Emerald Herald picked up one of the vials, examining it. There was a strange look in her eyes that made her seem distant. "His bones were all that remained, and even then they were turned to fine white dust. It was gathered and preserved as holy relics."
"Bones are a conduit of the soul, far more so than flesh or stone or wood, for they have been saturated in the life that once was, and are a direct link to the afterlife. Only gems come close to matching this potency, and that is due to the fact they have undergone intense pressures to emerge pure. As for this Sublime Bone Dust, you can sprinkle it into the bonfire here, and bolster its power. When an Undead extracts Estus from a bonfire afterwards, it will have much greater potency."
"Any bonfire, and any Estus Flask?" Erik inquired, intrigued. The Herald nodded.
"All bonfires are connected to each other through the First Flame, so what benefits one, the rest benefit from as well. But you must burn the Dust here, at this bonfire."
"Why?" Lucatiel asked. This time, it was Shalquoir who spoke.
"Because no other bonfire has a Fire Keeper. Our dear Emerald Herald is the last of them, and as such she has powers over the bonfires. It's also why she can improve your Estus Flasks," the cat said, earning an annoyed look from Shanalotte.
"I see. Well, I need to visit Maughlin and see if he has any clothes I can use. I'm not too fond of feeling the breeze through my shirt," Erik said, digesting the information and rising. He looked to the Herald and removed some Estus Shards from his pouch.
"Can you infuse these with my current flask? And perhaps use the Sublime Bone Dust? I don't want to mess it up and make things worse."
Shanalotte just nodded, taking the offered items before turning to the bonfire and preparing to do whatever was needed. As he waited, Erik made his way over to the Volganite's shop while Lucatiel wandered over to inspect Lenigrast's smithy.
"Oh, hello again. What can I do for you?" Maughlin the Armorer asked, hiding a smirk as he took in Erik's ripped clothes.
"Something new, and maybe some armor as well. Do you have any shirts, and can I see your lightest armor?" The chef asked, and the merchant from Volgan nodded.
"Of course. I don't have much normal clothes, as I'm not a proper tailor, but I'll see what I have. Here, this looks like it'll fit," Maughlin said, tossing a worn yet still wearable peasant's tunic at the young Undead cook. He then rooted around the interior of his Bottomless Box for a set of armor. At length, the dark skinned man removed a piece of Hardened Leather Armor, made for the upper body.
"This might be your best choice in terms of armor," Maughlin mused, passing it over for Erik to try on. "It has decent defense, and while I do have some Falconer's Armor, this is lighter and more flexible. Much better choice for fast movement and dodging."
"Thanks. How much?" Erik asked, finding the armor to be a good fit.
"For you? 1,260 souls."
"Deal," Erik agreed, passing over the souls and smiling in thanks. "I might be back. See you around."
"Of course. Do try to come back alive. You're a good customer," Maughlin said, waving farewell.
"Hello Mrs. Melentia, how has life been?" Erik asked, walking up to the elderly vendor-hag. She cackled and smiled at the young man.
"Very good, very good! Business is brisk. I chose a good spot. All sorts of new comers enter through here, and all need items. What about yourself? Need anything?"
"A dozen Lifegems, the rest of your Amber Herbs, half a dozen Fire Bombs, and two dozen Throwing Knives," Erik requested, and Melentia cackled in glee.
"Very good purchase! Here!" She handed over the items and Erik offered up his souls to her in exchange. She grinned, her gap toothed smile wide and genuine, and she winked slyly at the young chef.
"By the way, it's a shame you had to cover yourself up again. We were all enjoying a good look! "
Erik blushed and looked away, his ears burning as Melentia cackled even louder.
"It's been a pleasure, but I need to go," he said slowly, inching away from the hag-merchant.
"Be seeing you dearie! Keh heh heh!" Erik hurried away, wondering if the shame would faded in time. He doubted it though. Undead had very good memories as long as they weren't close to Hollowing, and everyone likes to have a good laugh at someone else's expense.
"So, have you found my witless daughter yet?" Lenigrast asked, looking up for a moment from his anvil and whatever project he was currently working on. It looked like it was Lucatiel's breastplate, which made sense; it had been damaged fairly badly in the fight with the Lost Sinner.
"No, I'm afraid not, sir. But don't worry, I'll keep a sharp eye out for her."
"Ah, good, thank you young man. Anyways, where did you find that sword?" Lenigrast asked, motioning with his head to the big, blood stained sword that had once belonged to the Lost Sinner, but now lay on its side near the forge.
"Being held by a very powerful Hollow pyromancer," Erik admitted. He wasn't sure if anyone here would even recognize who she'd been. It had been centuries since she'd been locked away, after all. Come to think of it, did anyone even remember her name? The chef felt a twinge of pity for the unnamed woman; no one knew who she had been, and thus would be forgotten in the endless sea of time.
"I thought so. There's a lot of ash and the grip is almost completely charred. But whoever crafted this weapon made it to last. It's old, very old, yet all the rust and grime slides off with just a bit of scrubbing, and I can't even see any wear or tear along the blade. It's as sharp as the day it was made!" Lenigrast praised, giving it an awed look. It settled into a contemplative frown though after a bit. "Be careful with it, though. I've seen weapons that have been enchanted to cause Bleed, but this feels different. Darker, and more violent. As if it's hungry and will demand payment for every swing."
Erik nodded, staring at the long great sword. He too could feel a sinister aura around it. But if Lucatiel wanted to wield it, he'd let her, but also would be sure to watch her back. He didn't want anything to happen to her.
"Do you think you can repair this?" Erik asked, holding out his Iron Parma. The blacksmith clicked his tongue as he looked it over, tsking every so often.
"Perhaps. A little bit of Repair Powder and some extra iron and I can make it passable as a shield again. But it won't last long, or stand up to a volley of arrows or bolts. I'd recommend a new one, honestly."
"I'll keep that in mind," Erik said with a nod. He left the shield next to Lenigrast's anvil and walked out, having caught sight of someone he wanted to speak to.
"Good to see you again, young Mr. Potts," Carhillion said with a smile, beaming up at the chef. Erik smiled as well, and sat next to the old sorcerer on the bluff, and joined him in watching the ocean. Below them Caitha's Tears was lashed to an impromptu dock, which was really just a bunch of rocks with ropes.
"When I came sailing up to Majula, you would not believe the fright I gave them," Carhillion chuckled, shooting a glance over at Saulden who huffed and turned away. "They thought I was a pirate, here to plunder their booty!"
"You're certainly getting into the nautical talk, I see," Erik joked, and the elderly Melfian laughed in agreement.
"Maybe I missed my calling! I could have been Carhillion of the Fleet, scourge of the seas!" The two shared a chuckle before the sorcerer looked at the chef.
"You seem to be different now. You carry yourself with greater confidence, and I can sense you've obtained some very powerful souls."
"You can?" Erik asked in surprise, hands unconsciously covering himself up. Carhillion nodded.
"It's easier for sorcerers and clerics, but anyone with enough talent and training can perceive the state of another person's soul, and what sort of souls they've gathered. Strong souls burn bright, and you're amassing quite the collection of powerful and old souls," Carhillion said. "I can also tell that your Fire Seed has changed slightly. Have you experienced anything odd with it?"
"Sort of. You see, while I was fighting an armored foe, I somehow managed to reach into the metal, and pull out its memory of heat, if that makes sense," Erik said slowly, trying to explain what he'd done. "The metal suddenly became red hot, as if it was forge fresh, and melted! I could also see the body heat of the people around me when I did so."
Carhillion leaned in, interested. "I have heard tales of pyromancers able to do such things, many of which live in the sands of Jugo. It is an ability that is most commonly is known to belong to the Desert Sorceresses, an isolated, all female clan of magic users that practice esoteric Pyromancy spells and techniques. I do not know where you can find any of them around here, though. I met one years ago, but that was when I was a strapping young lad, traveling the world studying Sorcery."
"I've heard, um, stories about the Desert Sorceresses," Erik admitted, flushing slightly red. The old man just winked knowingly.
"A lot of it is codswallop, but some of it is true. For one thing, they are beasts under the sheets," Carhillion said with a grin that was all teeth. Erik turned completely red faced, from his neck to his ears. The Melfia laughed at the young cook's expression and complexion.
"Heh, alright, enough fun. Now, was there anything else?"
"I created ice." This was said quietly, in a mumble, as if the Undead chef didn't want to mention it, but did so anyways and hoped the sorcerer would not hear. He did, though. Once you joined the ranks of the Undead, maladies and issues of age like loss of hearing and wrinkles stopped being problems. If anything, Carhillion's ears were sharper than they'd ever been in life.
"Ice? You say you created ice?"
Erik nodded and Carhillion's eyes widened.
"Amazing! Truly amazing! To think, you would manage to discover a lost magic all on your own! Truly remarkable!"
"It is?" Erik asked, intrigued.
"Oh yes! Pyromancy is, at its core, the manipulation of fire. What is fire, though, but a form of heat and energy! As such, many a sage and researcher theorized it would be possible to reverse the flow of mana and energy when using Pyromancy, and create ice or cold temperatures!"
"Is such a thing possible? I mean, I did it, but could others?" Erik inquired, and the sorcerer nodded.
"It is possible. In fact, the Kingdom of Eleum Loyce to the far north was able to do so! They created an entirely new branch of Pyromancy; Cryomancy, the art of creating and controlling ice! But the Ivory Kingdom was isolated by rugged terrain, tall mountains, terrible weather, and an isolationist policy that makes Lanafir look open and welcoming. It was the smallest of the Three Kingdoms of Drangleic, but was also extremely powerful because of its ice magic. The secrets of their Cryomancy remained just that, a secret, and now that it has fallen like the others, they may forever be lost. But to think you could recreate it all by yourself! Amazing! You must show me!"
Erik leaned back, a tad unnerved by Carhillion's eagerness, but complied all the same. He picked up a rock in his left hand and focused on it. The ability came easier now that he'd done it once before, but it was still hard. The first time had been a spur of the moment, and he'd need a lot of practice before he could use it offensively again.
With glacial slowness, tiny blossoms of ice crackled and spread over the pebble, before they melted in the warmth of the sun. Erik panted and let go of his powers, feeling them fade. It was tiring, trying to make a Fire Seed do the opposite of what it normally does.
Carhillion's eyes were wide and sparkled with curiosity. He'd felt as well as seen the magic and was impressed by the boy's level of precise control. With training the chef could become a great mage!
"In all my years… so very beautiful," the sorcerer sighed, and he leaned back, staring at the clouds. He then turned to Erik, who looked back.
"I do not think I can help you much with this, you'll have to learn how to control the ice and flames on your own. I'll do what I can, but this is not my area of expertise. Perhaps if you found my student, Rosabeth, she'd be able to provide more assistance. Until then, I'd recommend you take notes on yourself and practice carefully on your own. This is a great opportunity for you. Do try to take it easy and not die, alright?"
"I'll do my best. Farewell, Carhillion."
"Hello there again. Still have your wits about you?"
"As many as ever. Greetings, Sir Saulden," Erik said, approaching the steps which the Crestfallen Knight had long ago commandeered. He just nodded, and looked at the chef with an unreadable expression.
"My dear friend Targey sent me a message a while ago. You did him and my brothers and sisters a favor. Thank you for letting them have a taste of good food one more time."
"It was no problem at all, sir. I like to cook and I was glad to help. To be honest I enjoyed it. It reminded me of cooking back in Lindelt. I had to make a lot of huge meals back then as well," Erik said, waving off the thanks, a fond smile on his face as he recalled the past.
"Well, he wanted to give you something as payment. Here." Saulden held out his hand and dropped a large, metal ring into the cook's open palm. "A Ring of Steel Protection. It is enchanted to increase the hardness of the clothes or armor of its wearer. A common item in my homeland of Mirrah, at least for the knights."
"Does Lucatiel have one?" Erik asked, looking over the fine craftsmanship of the item before slipping it onto his left hand.
"If they are a knight, then yes. All knights of Mirrah are given such a ring as a gift upon earning the title," Saulden said, while he raised an eyebrow as the young man put on the ring, noting that the chef already had two other rings on that hand; the Silver Serpent and Clothary rings.
There was a reason only two or less rings could be worn on each hand. A very simple one, really. Magic reacts in interesting ways when it is forced to share the same space as other magic. It was why Bottomless Boxes sometimes turned into Mimics; the enchantment on the container mutated due to prolonged contact with other magical items stored within. For magic rings, which possessed delicate and precise enchantments, the results can be… messy. More often than not, if a person wore too many Magic Rings their hands would overload with magic and explode! For Undead this wasn't too bad, as some Estus would regrow the pulped appendage in time. But it was inconvenient and when surrounded by danger, it could be life threatening.
And yet Erik did not seem to have any ill effects. The reaction was usually instantaneous, but here the boy's hands didn't seem to be in any danger. Saulden frowned and peered at the chef. He looked, and saw several familiar souls. Last Giant, Dragonrider, Flexile Sentry, Ruin Sentinel, and Lost Sinner. But there was one he did not recognize. It was tied to the Lost Sinner's soul, but was stronger and more primal. Ancient in a way that Saulden had never seen before. Who, or what, did it belong to? Where did he obtain it? The former Monarch Candidate did not know, and felt curiosity kindle in his heart. As soon as it appeared though the Crestfallen Knight stamped it down viciously. Curiosity was what led him to try and complete the tasks the Emerald Herald had set. Curiosity was what nearly caused him to go Hollow. Better to forget it and let the chef deal with it himself.
"Do try to be safe out there. Drangleic is a scary place," the knight of the Way of Blue warned, and Erik nodded. The veteran warrior paused, before offering up some more advice.
"If you wish to find the next area you seek, go to where you traveled to reach Heide. But go left instead of right in the rotunda. I believe a cleric has set up shop down there. She can help you progress down the next path."
"Thank you, I will take your advice," Erik said, bowing slightly to the despondent man. Saulden just gave a halfhearted wave in response, and watched in silence as the young Undead left.
"Bearer of the Curse, I have done as you requested," Shanalotte said, handing Erik his newly reinforced Estus Flask. The bonfire had changed as well; the flames were a bit whiter than before. He nodded in thanks, bowing slightly.
"I thank you, Fire Keeper," Erik said gratefully, but he received an angry glare for the Emerald Herald.
"I do not like that title." Her words were laced were repressed fury and years of pain and Erik took an involuntary step back. Shalquoir sighed sadly and gave Shanalotte a pitying look.
"I shall remember that," Erik promised, hastily bowing again.
"Be safe on your journey, Bearer of the Curse. Till hope withers, I shall be here," the Emerald Herald said stoically.
"Of course. And when I return, I wish to speak with you about some of what I have been coming to learn of," Erik stated. "I have many questions."
In response Shanalotte just turned away and looked out across the sea. The message was clear. Erik walked away, feeling a strange tingle in his chest.
Lucatiel was waiting nearby, her weapons and armor fully repaired and she held out the mended Iron Parma to the chef.
"Ready to leave?" She asked from behind her silver mask. Erik nodded.
"Yes. Come, I've been given a hint on where to go next." He led the way, down the steps of the tunnel till the pair came to the pillared rotunda. There, Erik was pleasantly surprised to see Licia the cleric waiting down there.
She looked up as the duo approached, and smiled shyly at Erik, a tiny dusting of red on her cheeks that did not go unnoticed by the knightess.
"Hello again, young Potts. Is your journey going well?"
"It is, thank you for the concern Lady Licia," Erik replied, a friendly smile on her face. He looked around, as if trying to find something.
"Is everything alright? Do you require anything? I have Miracles for sale if you need any. I know you said he didn't, but…" Licia said hesitantly, and Erik shook his head.
"No, not at the moment. It's just that Sir Saulden said we could find another way through here, but I'm not seeing anything…"
"Oh, you seek to head into the Huntsman's Copse?" Licia said, a note of worry in her voice. "I'd avoid that place if I were you. The Brotherhood of Blood holds sway over the area."
Erik grimaced at the thought of the mad cultists, but stood up straighter.
"I need to go through."
Licia sighed but nodded, before placing her hand on a stone panel that was on the side of the pillar. A flash of golden light blazed from her hand, and she smirked as Erik and Lucatiel jumped in surprise when the walls started moving, revealing a hidden passageway to the left.
"This mechanism was built to only be opened with the application of Miracles, or by a cleric of a certain rank. I do not know who designed it as such, but the path it reveals leads to the south-east, into the outskirts of the Old Iron King's domain. Be careful. Of course, if you want, I could come with you…" Licia fidgeted a bit as she timidly offered her help, casting covert glances at the young man. But Erik shook his head, much to Lucatiel's hidden delight.
"I appreciate the thought, but I'd feel better if you were safe. The journey I'm on is going to be perilous, and I do not know where I'll end up."
"I am adept with many Miracles, both offensive and defensive," Licia protested, not entirely happy that he thought she could not take care of herself, but also a bit touched at his concern.
"Of that I have no doubt, the fact you've thrived in Drangleic for so long being proof enough," Erik said, soothing her pride. "There may be a time I need your help, but until then I'd rather you stay safe, and protect Majula. Not everyone there is a capable fighter."
"Of course. I shall do my best," Licia said, turning her head to the side so neither could see her giddy grinning face. It had been so long since anyone had been this kind and thoughtful to her, let alone a handsome young man!
Lucatiel snorted, not fooled at all, and looked to the oblivious chef.
"Come on then, Erik. We should get going while we still have some daylight left."
"Of course! Goodbye, Lady Licia. I hope to see you again soon!"
The cleric, who'd snapped her head around when she'd heard the feminine voice come from behind the mask, put on a fake smile.
"I too. And I hope your… 'friend' stays safe as well."
Erik smiled and waved farewell, blissfully unaware of the sparks he'd accidentally set.